


Mandomera Week 2021

by mytardisisparked



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Gentle touches, ITS ABOUT THE YEARNING, Mandomera Week 2021, Pining, Repressed Feelings, idk this is just really soft guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:54:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29921319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytardisisparked/pseuds/mytardisisparked
Summary: A look at the relationship between Omera and Din Djarin through a series of Tumblr prompts from the Mandomera fandom.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Omera
Comments: 11
Kudos: 21
Collections: Mandomera Week 2021





	1. Chapter 1

Omera never knew if he had left that glove behind on purpose. She was sure it had been an accident but, for a man who was so careful never to show an inch of skin, she still had trouble believing he had simply forgotten it as he and his son had gone driving off down that road towards whatever adventure and danger would strike them next. In her moments of weakness, she would find herself imagining that he had left the glove behind for her to remember him by. In moments when she was weaker still, she would gently run her fingers over the glove, wondering what the hand that had once filled it would feel like, fingers entwined with her own.

When Din Djarin did return nearly half a year later without his son or a helmet on his head and asked to stay in the village, she accepted with open arms.

Despite the fact that Din’s armor had been stored away in a trunk so he could easily join the rest of the village in the krill ponds, he still seemed shocked whenever people touched him. An accidental bump of the elbow, or a brush of someone’s arm as they reached past him to grab another basket always left the Mandalorian looking as if his brain had short circuited. It wasn’t that he was upset by the touch, or even uncomfortable, it was just such a new sensation that felt so intimate that his brain wasn’t sure how to handle it.

However, whenever he accidentally touched Omera, his brain still felt muddled, but once the feeling passed, he was left wishing she would touch him again. Every brush of her fingers, every bump of their shoulders was like a drug that left him craving more.

Omera was careful about touching him, aware of the way he was raised and the way he paused whenever someone bumped into him, but she couldn’t help but notice the way he would sidle closer to her whenever they worked in the same pond. Sometimes, she almost thought he would let their elbows knock together on purpose.

So she decided to test a theory.

“Din?” she said one day, walking out of her room to find him at the breakfast table.

He looked up at her with a smile. “Good morning,” he said quietly, setting his bowl of oatmeal down.

Omera couldn’t help but smile back. “I just realized, I forgot to give this back to you when you returned.” She held up the forgotten glove. “You might need it today for cutting new basket materials, the branches and vines can be hard on your hands.”

Din smiled again. “Thank you, I wondered where that glove had disappeared to.”

Omera smiled and then held the glove towards him, opening the entrance of it with her fingers. “May I?”

Din stilled and something in his expression changed. Omera panicked for a moment, thinking that she had crossed a line until he held his hand out and nodded, swallowing hard.

She stepped forward and slid the glove on his hand, letting her fingers brush his skin all the way up to his wrist.

He took a deep breath and, once again, she worried that she had gone too far until he grabbed her hand with his ungloved one, the skin-to-skin contact searing them both as Din laced their fingers together. “Thank you, Omera.”

She smiled back and squeezed his hand. “Of course, Din.”

They didn’t let go until they were forced to drop hands and pick up tools.


	2. Trust

She nearly pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. 

Standing in front of her, a mere foot between them, was the armored man she thought about more often than she should. She watched as his chest moved beneath his shiny breastplate, reassuring herself that he was real, he was alive.

“Mando,” she breathed.

He inclined his head. “Omera.”

They stood quietly for a moment before he took a step forward, gently taking her hand in his. “My name is Din,” he said quietly, his voice shaking as if he wasn’t used to saying his own name. “You can call me Din, if you want.”

Omera smiled. “Alright, Din.”

Suddenly, Din took her other hand and lifted both of them up to his helmet, gently placing them on the sides, just as she had done a few months ago. Her eyes widened and she took a short step back, but he held her hands firmly.

“It’s okay,” he said, “I trust you.”

Something in her heart stirred; it was the same thing that had stirred the day he had taught the village how to shoot and she had found him watching her intently as she nailed every shot she took.

Slowly, they lifted his helmet off together, revealing a square jaw, soft stubble, aquiline nose, and the deepest brown eyes Omera had ever seen. The helmet hung between them for a moment before Din reached up and cupped her cheek, giving her a tentative smile.

“Hello, Omera.”


	3. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, school got to me!

Din twisted his helmet in his hands, the only indication of his nerves as he stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the sky.

Omera smiled as she approached his side, taking one of his busy hands in her own and giving it a squeeze. Din smiled sheepishly and squeezed back.

“I just hope the little womprat remembers me,” he muttered.

“He will,” Omera smiled. “You’re his father. He can’t forget you.”

Din simply returned his gaze to the sky, searching for any sign of the expected ship.

Within moments, a hum filled the air and Din squeezed Omera’s hand tighter. She stepped closer to his side, unable to keep the smile from her face as she nestled her other hand into the crook of his elbow.

An X-Wing came into view, landing much too slowly for Din’s taste. His heartbeat grew quicker as the landing gear clicked out and touched the soft ground. He gripped his helmet tighter and let Omera’s steady presence at his side ground him.

The cockpit of the fighter slid open and, before the Jedi Din had sent Grogu off with could even get out himself, the tiny green alien was scrambling down the ladder at a speed Din had never known him capable of, and rushing toward his father.

Grinning wildly, heart lifting, Din kneeled and held his arms open. With a laugh, he caught the tiny creature as he flung himself into Din’s unarmored chest and clung tightly to his blue shirt. Tears filled his eyes as he hugged Grogu tightly.

“Hey, kid,” he said roughly. Din looked up at Omera, who was smiling at them with silver-lined eyes. “Welcome home.”

Grogu babbled something back, reaching up to tug on Din’s mustache. Din laughed and settled the baby into the crook of his arm. “Come on, buddy. Your sister, Winta, is dying to see you too.” At the mention of Winta’s name, Grogu babbled louder, earning a chuckle from Din and Omera.

Din slid his free arm around Omera’s waist, and the happy family turned back towards the village, ready for the next reunion. 


	4. Family

Sorgan culture and Mandalorian culture were very different. 

The people of Omera’s Sorgan village were farmers, weavers, and the finest spotchka brewers the galaxy had ever seen. They valued cooperation and a hard day’s work, and celebrated such things in full measure with after-harvest parties that could last for weeks.

Mandalorians were more individualistic, valuing personal achievement alongside the acts of the people as a whole. They were warriors and artists with a special knack for attention to detail.

One thing, however, that these two cultures agreed upon was the importance of family.

When Din first arrived in the village with his son, everyone accepted the two of them without question. The adults all watched The Child run with their own children and ensured that the small, green baby didn’t get into any trouble. He never went hungry, as everyone worked together to feed all of the children of the village, and he never was alone, having a dozen brothers and sisters by his side at all times. 

When The Child and Mando left, it was like the village had lost two of their own. Everyone was quiet for days and, even months later, there was a bittersweet note in the air whenever anyone brought up their silver-armored friend and his son. 

Thus, as you can imagine, there was a great deal of celebration when the aforementioned armored-man returned, even though his son was not with him.

Din had been surprised to recieve such a warm welcome, though he accepted every cup of spotchka the people handed him with a smile. He had hoped that everyone would welcome him back, but he hadn’t expected them to throw a party with dancing and music and colored lights.

He was glad for their glee, of course, but all of that paled in comparison to the smiled Omera wore when she saw him return, helmet off. The second he had seen her face without the layer of his visor between them, he had felt his heart fill to bursting.

Neither of them had really stopped smiling since.

In a quiet moment, when some of the elders were regaling everyone with their well-known tales of old, Omera settled herself next to Din, so close their shoulders were almost touching.

“I’m not sure if you could tell,” she smiled, humor leaking into her tone, “but everyone is glad to have you back.”

Din bowed his head. “I’m glad to be back.” He was quiet for a moment. “I was hoping my presence would be welcomed. I brought trouble last time I was here and I wasn’t sure-”

Omera clasped his ungloved hand in hers. “It doesn’t matter. You’re family, and we always welcome family.”

“I’m-” he cleared his throat, “I’m family?”

She laughed aloud at that. “Yes, you’re one of us.”

He smiled. “I know I said once that I don’t belong here but,” he took a deep breath and found Omera’s other hand with his own, “maybe I would like to belong here.”

“Maybe I’d like you to belong here too,” Omera spoke quietly, suddenly very aware of how close they were.

The rest of the village was too engaged, blessedly, in the campfire story to notice Din and Omera’s lips meet in a tender kiss, Din shuddering at the intimate contact, realizing what he had been missing out on under the protection of his helmet. As they pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers with a smile.

Despite all of the grief in his life, all he had lost, Din realized how lucky he had been to have so many people to call family. First, his biological parents. Then his Mandalorian clan. Then Grogu. And now, the people of Sorgan and the lovely woman he was pleased to find felt the same way about him as he felt about her.

He slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as he turned his attention back to the elder’s story. He looked at the faces of the people around the fire, relishing in the closeness they all shared, a closeness he could be a part of, if he wished.

Yes, this would be his family. He would take Cara’s suggestion and settle here with Omera, allowing himself to appreciate a quiet life with his new family.


End file.
